Everybody Loves Spike
by Ghyste
Summary: Wherein Spike visits other fictional universes and has sketchily described sex with the people he meets there [slash]
1. Alley Oops!

Somehow, Spike had expected death to be different – with some justification, it has to be said, since this was the second time he had experienced it. He certainly had not expected it to have cobbles, but that was undeniably what he now found himself lying upon. He hadn't expected it to be quite so orange either, but the double vision could probably be put down to the after–effect of his recent disintegration. Then one of the identical red–heads looking down at him poked him none too gently in the ribs with his toe.

"Oy, mate! You OK?" it said.

"Do I bloody well look OK?" replied Spike, dragging himself to his feet.

"No, not really," replied the other red-head, leading Spike to conclude that he couldn't after all blame everything on his dodgy eyesight, "you look like last month's thestral droppings."

"The what now?" said Spike, in what was a scarily Xanderesque moment, had he but noticed it.

"Nah, with that skin and hair he looks like a poor-man's Malfoy."

"Malfoy?" said Spike.

"Nasty buggers," said red-head MkII. "Better get him inside," he continued. "After the last time, we don't want the public thinking he's suffering the after-effects of a visit to Wizard Wheezes." And with that the two of them each took an arm, manoeuvred Spike into the shop in front of which he appeared to have been lying and settled him down in a chair that farted as soon as it took his weight. Spike was disconcerted to find that the joke was not merely of the aural variety.

"New line," said one of the red-heads, their relative numbering having got confused during the short journey. "By the way, I'm George and this is Fred."

"Pleased to meet you, I'm Spike."

"Welcome to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, Spike," chorused the pair.

"So, what's all this then," said Spike, gesturing at the bizarre products lining the shelves, "this some sort of boogedy-boogedy shop?"

"Boogedy-boogedy?"

"You know," said Spike, "Magic."

"Well, of course it's magic," came the response, "what else would it be?"

"Any number of things," said Spike. "It's not like magic shops are two a penny even in dear old Sunnydale."

"Well, blow me up and cover me with boils – it's a Muggle," said George.

"Is that like a Malfoy?" asked Spike.

"Uh, not quite," said Fred, "it's a non-magical person."

"Most don't even believe magic exists," added George.

"Not me, mate," said Spike, "I've seen things that would turn your hair white."

"That what happened to you?"

"Nah, that's L'Oreal," said Spike. "Because I'm worth it," he added after a pause.

"What are you doing here, then?" asked George. "Muggles aren't supposed to be able to get into Knockturn Alley."

"I don't know," said Spike, "I just died for the second time and when I woke up I was here."

"Second time?" queried Fred. "Make a habit of it, do you?"

"Not like some people I know," replied Spike.

"So, what happened?"

"First time was the standard fangs in the neck, claw your way out of your grave job. Second time it was all saving the world, magic amulet, burnt up from the inside. Thought that might be a bit more permanent-like."

"Ah," said Fred, "Vampire."

"That explains it," said George.

"You don't seem very shocked," said Spike.

"Well," said Fred, "vampires aren't, what was it you said, 'two a penny' around here but we get a fair few. Do a nice trade in blood lollypops."

"Blood lollypops?" said Spike.

"Here, try one," said George, holding out what did indeed look like a lollypop made of blood and, when Spike tasted it, turned out to be one in truth – O negative if his taste buds didn't deceive him. Maybe this version of the afterlife wasn't so bad after all.

"Any thoughts about what you'd like to do while you're here?" asked Fred.

"Well," said Spike, "I've given up on the murder and mayhem since I've had the old soul back, give or take a few unfortunate folk-song related incidents, so I guess a quick drink is the best I could hope for."

"We've got some blood-replenishing potion. It's not as good as the real stuff, but it'll keep you going and we can offer you a Firewhiskey chaser if you're up for something with a bit more of a kick."

"That'll do nicely. Then maybe we can go out and hit the nightlife."

"Hit the nightlife?" asked George. "Aren't you nightlife?"

"Maybe he means, hit _on_ the nightlife," suggested Fred. He gave Spike a considering look and then turned to his brother. "You know, we haven't had a vampire yet," he said.

"Had?" said Spike.

"We're trying to work our way through the full range of magical creatures," explained George.

"Needed a bit of a challenge," said Fred.

"'Specially after Bill pulled a part-Veela," said George.

"Couldn't have him getting one up on us," said Fred.

"Thought we might write a handbook afterwards," said George.

"So, you up for it?" asked Fred.

Spike had always thought that when he had sex with twins they would be blonde, Swedish and undeniably female. Mind you, this would do at a pinch. "What the hell," he said.

Fred turned the sign to 'Closed' while George rummaged around on one of the shelves until he found a package emblazoned with the message: 'All undressed and nowhere to go? Try _Make-Your-Bed_, for when you've found the right one to lie on it with you!'

"Very handy," said Spike as the contents transformed themselves into a rather comfy looking king-size, complete with faux leopard-skin cover.

"Actually," said Fred, "we're working on a product that really _will_ give you extra hands. It's not ready yet, but fortunately for you we have four hands between us already!" And with that, the pair proceeded to tumble Spike to the mattress and put them to good use.

"Damn, but he's cold," said Fred, pausing in his ministrations.

"Try a warming charm," suggested his brother.

"Nah," said Fred, "might mess up his system."

"How about thermal gloves?"

Fred pondered this for a moment before frowning. "What about the problems of loss of sensation?"

"It'd only be a problem for us for us, not for him - 'specially if they're ribbed. There's probably a market there for folks who want to pleasure the undead."

"We could get mum to knit them," added Fred.

"Ahem," said Spike, who was feeling a trifle neglected. "With a little less talk and a little more action, you might not notice the chill." The twins bent to their task with renewed vigour, divesting Spike and themselves of their remaining clothes. "So," said Spike, "how do you want it - both together or sequentially?"

"Couldn't we try it both ways?"

"How much energy do you think I have?" asked Spike.

"That's what pepper–up potion is for," came the happy reply.

Finally, after a protracted argument as to which of the twins should go first, which hardly mattered to Spike since he had lost track as to who was who again, they managed to work out how everything fitted together regardless of who it belonged to and in due course a thoroughly exhausted Spike lay tangled-up with a pile of sated and happy redheads. "You know," murmured Fred in Spike's ear, "we have brothers."

"How many of them?" asked Spike.

"Four," said George, nibbling gently on Spike's left nipple.

"Oh my God."

Suddenly, the now familiar feeling of discorporation reached out and embraced Spike. "Well," he said, "this has been great, but it looks like I'm on my way again."

"So, how were we?" called the twins as he faded away.

"Magic," said Spike.


	2. Gene Genie

Spike opened his eyes a fraction. This time the afterlife appeared to be brown and smoke-stained. A voice cut through the fug: "Chief, there's some nancy-boy dossing down on your floor." 

A somewhat lived-in face hovering above a 1970s-style camel jacket hove into view. "Hoy, sunshine! What the hell do you think you're doing kipping in _my_ station?" it said.

Spike sighed. "I suppose you want to have sex with me," he said.

He never even saw the fist that sent him flying into the next universe.


	3. Without a Stitch in Time

There was a conversation going on somewhere above his head. 

"He's dead."

"Are you sure?"

"Well, he's very blond so I suppose it's possible that he's just pining for the fjords."

Thwack

"Ow."

"Serves you right."

"What I want to know is how a dead body got in here in the first place."

"Perhaps it walked in."

"Yes, because dead bodies are always just walking into the TARDIS. Oooh, I'm bored of my coffin, they say, I'll just try out this police box for size."

"It could be a zombie after our braaaaains."

"The condition of the corpse is too good."

"Vampire? You know, 'I vant to suck your blood'."

"Ha, Ha."

Hmm, two people, one male and one female. The bloke had a northern accent, but the bird sounded like she was from his home turf. The discussion continued...

"So, no-one's just walked into the TARDIS before?"

"Not while we were travelling."

"And the doors were closed."

"You've travelled with the doors open?"

"Only once or twice."

"Once or twice?"

"Maybe three times, but that's not the point. This time the doors were definitely closed."

Spike wasn't really quite sure if he wanted to open his eyes. After all, it had turned out to be a pretty bad idea the last time round. But eventually he decided he'd have to risk a quick peek through slitted eyes, because he wasn't entirely sure that he wasn't headed for an autopsy if he didn't do something soon. The bird was bending over him, providing a nicely unobstructed view straight down the front of her top. Yes, she was definitely female, blonde too... and if she was a bit chunkier than the Slayer, well, most people were. No, he wouldn't say no - in fact, he might say 'yes, yes, yes', though that would probably be her.

Unfortunately, his rather pleasant reverie was disturbed since it appeared that the bloke had noticed his return to consciousness, though how that was possible he wasn't quite sure, given as how he was dead and all.

"Oh, so you've decided to grace us with your presence," he said.

"What?" said Spike, a trifle nonplussed.

"I wasn't talking to you."

OK, maybe he hadn't noticed, because he appeared to be talking to someone behind Spike's head. Spike craned his head around and saw another bloke, this time with rather less in the ear department.

"Nice coat," said Spike.

"Thanks," replied the newcomer. "Anyone going to introduce me?"

"I would do," came the response, " if I knew who and what he was."

"I'm Spike," said Spike, levering himself to his feet.

"Promising name."

"So I've been told," said Spike. "You?"

"I'm Jack," said Jack, "and this vision of loveliness is Rose Tyler."

"Pleased to meet you," said Rose.

"I'm The Doctor, by the way," said the third member of the party.

"Doctor what?" asked Spike.

"Just The Doctor," said The Doctor. "What are you doing here?"

"Buggered if I know," said Spike, "one minute I was in some miserable 1970's office block, then someone punched me in the face and the next thing I knew I was here."

"You're from the 1970's?" said Rose.

"Well, I've lived through the '70s," said Spike, "good decade, that."

"So when are you from?" asked The Doctor.

"Born in the 1850s," said Spike.

"Oooh!" said Rose, "did you know Charles Dickens? I met him once - we nearly got killed by re-animated corpses."

"Never knew Dickens went in for that sort of thing," said Spike, "I might have looked him up if I did."

"Born in the 1850s but lived through the 1970s," mused Jack. "Time Agent?"

"Vampire," said Spike.

"See!" said Rose, punching The Doctor on the arm.

"Being a vampire doesn't explain how you got in here though, does it," remarked The Doctor. "Also, ouch!"

"Look," said Spike, "something weird's been happening to me of late. There I was, dying for the second time then 'whoosh' I'm off in some alleyway with identical redheads doing unmentionable things to my private parts and as soon as they'd done with me I was off to some grungy office where I got smacked in the face. Next stop here."

"Identical redheads?" mused Jack. "Could have been worse."

"Identical _male_ redheads," said Spike.

"Again I say, could have been worse."

"Have you been displaced before?" asked The Doctor. " You know, time travel, alternative dimensions, that sort of thing?"

"Well, there was the whole back from the dead thing. Plus Halfrek once sent me off to some place full of little furry-footed blokes."

"Halfrek?" asked The Doctor.

"Demon," replied Spike, "power of The Wish and all that."

"You wished to be sent somewhere with little furry-footed blokes?" asked Rose.

"Not exactly," said Spike, "more Hallie's idea of a bit of fun."

"Did _they_ do unmentionable things to your private parts?" asked Jack.

Spike just looked shifty.

"I'll take that as a yes," said Jack.

"Interesting," said The Doctor.

"What," said Jack, "The reality changes or Spike's private parts?"

"The reality changes - I'll leave the private parts to you if you don't mind," said The Doctor. "He's like a bit of flotsam that's been washed up by the time winds."

"You can't get washed up by winds," objected Rose.

"And you can't make a butterfly strong, though the inhabitants of Vortis might disagree," said The Doctor. "Anyway, what are we going to do with him now he's here?"

"I think we should keep him," said Jack.

"He's a bit pretty," said Rose with a wink at The Doctor.

"As, I expect, Jack has noticed," replied The Doctor.

"Indeed I have," said Jack.

"If things go as usual, I won't be here long anyway," offered Spike. "Few hours at most I'd wager."

"Then we'll just have to make the most of you while you're here."

"Where is here anyway?" asked Spike.

"It's the TARDIS," said Rose.

"What's that when it's at home?"

"Time and Relative Dimension In Space," said The Doctor. "She's my ship and you can keep your hands off of her."

"But you can put them on me any time," said Jack.

"Getting back to the matter at hand," said Spike, "where exactly is this TARDIS at the moment?"

"We're in a state of multidimensional temporal grace," said The Doctor.

"Pardon?"

"He means we're nowhere," explained Rose.

"Nowhere? I can't imagine how a ship this size can be nowhere."

"Actually, it's not that big - about the size of a Police Box," said Rose.

"_Exactly _the size of a Police Box," corrected The Doctor.

"A Police Box?" said Spike. "I remember Police Boxes and there's no way in hell you'd fit something this size into one."

"That's because it's bigger on the inside," said The Doctor, with the air of one who had pointed this out too many times before - which, of course, he had.

"Me, I'm just big," said Jack with a wink.

"Do you never stop?" asked Rose.

"Maybe when I'm dead," replied Jack, "but I wouldn't count on it."

"So," said The Doctor, "to get back to the subject, you say you move on pretty quickly. Is there anything in particular that triggers off the move?"

"Usually a shock to the system," said Spike.

"Good or bad?"

"Either... both." The Doctor promptly hit him on the head. "Ow!" said Spike.

"Just testing," said the Doctor. "That didn't work so I suppose we'd better try pleasure." Spike's brief fantasy about a certain pneumatic blonde was dashed as The Doctor turned to Jack. "Jack, Spike here needs to be pleasured. Reckon you're up to it?"

"I have been ever since I laid eyes on him," said Jack, smiling wolfishly, and Spike thought maybe it wasn't such a bad deal after all. He took the proffered hand and allowed Jack to lead him away into the depths of the TARDIS. Sometime later, as The Doctor and Rose were sharing a cup of tea, a comment drifted in past them, trailing away as if the speaker were thinning and fading out of their reality.

"I don't know about the TARDIS, but you certainly felt bigger when you were inside."


End file.
